


The Chasm of Life

by Xhafsn



Series: The Prince of Europe [1]
Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Brooklyn House (Kane Chronicles), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Jupiter (Percy Jackson), Canon Crossover, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Crossover, Fantasy, Gen, Multiple Crossovers, Mythology - Freeform, Original Character(s), Originally Posted Elsewhere, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Post-The Ship of the Dead (Magnus Chase), Trench Warfare, World War I, World War II, World War III
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24284221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xhafsn/pseuds/Xhafsn
Summary: Originally Posted on Wattpad.Arthur always thought of himself as average. He has a normal family, does well in school, has several extracurriculars, and in his spare time, does unusual stuff like combat engineering training. However, while revisiting mythology, a childhood favorite of his, he stumbles upon the secret of a lifetime: he is no typical demigod either.Prince of Europe: Book 1I do not own any series by Rick Riordan.
Series: The Prince of Europe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753066
Kudos: 4





	1. I Get Arrested For Arson

As someone who has done math competitions for several years of their life, I can't tell you how frustrating and annoying they can be. Nothing could have possibly prepared me for learning what odds I have beaten to exist, and what that means for my new daily existence.

My name is Arthur Romanchuk, and for the first eleven years of my life, I have been a fairly normal, if not a wee bit above-average kid if I don't say so myself. I come from a mixed background: my mother is from Hong Kong, and my father is an immigrant from Estonia. I grew up speaking five languages at home and two at school. I was born in Nevada, but I grew up in San Antonio, Texas. Then, last year, I moved to New Orleans, Louisiana. I made friends everywhere I went, did way too well in school for everyone's liking (the number of Asian jokes I received is not funny), and teachers came to give me higher-level work in class to keep me occupied. While all my peers struggled with negative numbers in sixth grade, I learned number theory and Calculus.

My teachers also desperately wanted me to take medicine. Personally, I don't see a problem with fidgeting, and it helps me come up with new ideas all the time. My best masonry projects were supposedly "ADHD" outbursts. That's just how it is.

The thing that always bugged me was dyslexia. I have trouble reading all seven languages I speak. Many times, my teachers have had to return a paper because I accidentally wrote Cyrillic characters for English ones. How in the world I mixed Belarusian with English is beyond me, but it happens. I regularly practice speaking and writing English, Mandarin, Cantonese, Belarusian, Estonian, Spanish, and Russian, but I mix everything up too often. 

Besides these things, I thought I was just another guy. Keyword thought.

Being a polyglot was the weird thing about me for over a decade before the weirdest of the weird happens. Today, my school takes a field trip to the World War II Museum. They do this every year, yet no one seems tired of this place. Everyone absolutely adores the USS Tang exhibit, but that's about as interesting as the place gets. That is until I got adventurous. They recently began constructing a new wing of the museum for the postwar exhibits. I, being beyond bored of listening to the events of D-Day, decide to sneak off and take a sneak peek. The hallway was still under construction, but I wanted to see whatever it was. 

"Where do you think you're going?" 

I look around and see my Greek teacher, Mr. Broussard. He is a strange man. Even in the year-round heat of New Orleans, he insists on wearing cargo pants. He changes between a Hawaiian shirt and a Saints T-shirt every day of the week. His walk is funny, and some of the Cajun kids say it's like he is always at a fais deux-deux, whatever that means. 

"I'm quite sick of this place," I reply. "I already know the war backward and forwards. All of my great grandparents were war veterans. I've heard the horrors of the Eastern Front, Burma, China, and the Philippines enough times to give me PTSD. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Fair point, but per school policy, I cannot leave you out of my sight," says Mr. Broussard. "I see that you're reading about Roman mythology. Care to share what you're reading about?"

I was carrying a picture book of the Roman gods at this very moment.

"It's really nothing," I say, maybe just a little too quickly.

"Really? Do you know the origin of Serapis?" asks Mr. Broussard.

"Isn't he an Egyptian god?" I question. "I think he was also Greek when they ruled Egypt. Then he became immensely popular under the Romans, who often replaced Osiris with him. That doesn't have much to do with Jupiter and the other Olympians, does it?"

"Well, here's something to know," Mr. Broussard begins. "Jupiter and Zeus were not always the same deity. The Romans worshipped Jupiter well before they encountered the Greeks. They say that Rome was discovered by the Greek hero Aeneas, but other people, namely the Etruscans, already lived there. Weird things happen when worlds collide. When the Romans conquered Greece, the story changed to say the old Etruscan, now Roman gods were the same. Things can change if anyone can brave the thought. Never forget that."

Mr. Broussard is always so apt to preach to the choir.

"You don't mean to tell me you believe in these old myths, do you?" I question. "There's no way these apply to real life. They're just ideas people threw around to explain their swords disappearing or something."

"Perhaps we should dis- look out!" Mr. Broussard abruptly pulls me backward, falling onto the hard pavement. The construction site appears to shudder for a moment, then erupts into flames. A hazy figure, that of what appears to be a very large duck, circles around what was the construction site. I squint my eyes through the -am I hallucinating? - green fire. 

I look harder at the figure, whose form seems to shimmer as though it's made of water. The creature appears to be a bird of prey, perhaps an eagle, with crimson feathers and menacing yellow eyes. Its talons are as though they are from a claw machine. All around it, an aura of fire interlaced with specks of emerald shine brightly. If not for the complete chaos the scene is engulfed in, this would have been a beautiful sight.

I collect my wits. What on Earth is this thing? No, it can't be. 

"That's a phoenix!" I yelp. The tendrils of green slowly simmered down, but the creature suddenly flies directly at me. I just barely manage to somersault underneath.

"Here, grab these!" Mr. Broussard calls out. 

He throws at me a mismatched pair of combat gloves. One is a deep, rich bronze, the other a shade between gold and silver. 

"What's are these supposed to do?" I call out. 

"Put them on!"

Having no better choices, I do as he say.

Suddenly, it's as though I'm playing a game of Halo. Each of my arms suddenly possesses a large gauntlet. The one on my left is the same bronze color as the glove I wore. The right is now a camouflage pattern of shades of gold, silver, and colors between the two. 

The phoenix, having recovered from its shock, charges towards me from behind. I spin around as I feel it approach me, grab it by the wings, then judo-flip it into a trash can.

"You'll need something more classic than these sci-fi death traps to take it down!" Mr. Broussard calls out. 

Classic. Like what, a sword?

Then, the gauntlets changes shape. In my left arm, I wield an unusual curved blade, its rich bronze luster gleaming in the sun. 

A khopesh, I remember to myself.

In my right, another unusual blade, a Roman gladius, appears. Half of the blade is lustrous gold metal. The other half is dark and glassy, deep as obsidian. Down the middle is a long streak of the shiniest silver I have ever laid eyes on. Its surface is covered in a thin layer of iridescent tarnish. 

It's my turn to attack. With the khopesh, I slash at the giant bird charging at me. It dodges my blade by mere feathers. In a quick backstroke, I reap it back towards me. The bird skewers itself on the blade of my extended gladius. The cursed bird then explodes into gold glitter. 

Just as I recover my wits from what just happened, three squad cars stand before me. The weapons reduce back down to combat gloves.  
"Down on the ground!" I hear someone yell out.  
A pair of cold handcuffs bind my hands behind my back, and for the next hour, all I see is the caged back of a Ford Taurus.


	2. A Cop Throws Me Across The Mississippi

"Stand here and hold this."

A bright flash and some eye pain later, I am once again cuffed and is placed into a dimly-lit room.

The duty officer, Officer Levesque, pats me down for any weapons. Of course, he suspects nothing of the gloves. He gestures me to sit down.

"Tell me what happened at the Museum," he asks after sitting down, notepad on desk and fountain pen in hand.

"I don't know. One minute I was taking a sneak peek at the new wing of the Museum, next thing you know, the place was in flames!" I respond, exasperated. "If it was a trick of the light or what was present at the site, I don't know, but I swear that the place burned in a green flame."

"I need a more thorough search of the young man," Officer Levesque says. "Bring in Officer Smith." 

A few moments later, a tall blond man walks in, his hair combed off to one side. His green eyes seem to stare into my soul. 

The officers proceed to strip me down to my boxers and tank top. I cringe at the cold air of the ventilation vent blowing into my back. 

"All clear, Officer Levesque," Officer Smith responds. "Officer Aucoin has finished interrogating the other man present, Sydney Broussard."

Officer Aucoin walks in holding Mr. Broussard. If I was high on something I someone slipped in as I ate at lunch, I was sure of it now. Officer Aucoin initially appeared as a tall, broad-shouldered, buff man with brown eyes. His arms are as thick as my legs and decorated with equally grotesque veins. I close my eyes, then take a second take. Those weren't brown eyes. That is an eye. One. Singular. Eye. My own eyes widen almost as wide as that one thing in the middle of the guy's forehead. 

Mr. Broussard seems to understand what I saw. He mouths to me something along the lines of "The Myth." As if I don't already know what I'm seeing.

I struggle in my chair, desperately wanting to get out of here. 

"Officer Levesque, is it just me or does Officer Aucoin only have one eye?" I hurriedly ask.

"That's it, bring in Dr. Higgins," Officer Smith answers, cutting off any response from Levesque.  
"This boy needs a toxicology test."

"I'll bring out the polygraph," Officer Levesque finally says. "Aucoin, take him to the other room."

I swear I saw "Aucoin" drool on his shirt. He eyes Mr. Broussard and I like ribeye steaks the whole way to the polygraph room. We all walk through another door, only to see a wide-open courtyard. 

"This isn't a room," I say.

"Way to state the obvious, you morsel," Aucoin answers. 

Ignoring the strangest insult I have ever heard, I ask, "What are we doing in the courtyard?"

"Your time has come, Arthur Romanchuk."

"Sorry, but not keen to die today. At least not without my TNT."

I finally turn around to face the monster behind me. My smirk left my face as quickly as it came.  
What stood in the place of Aucoin was an awful giant about thirteen feet tall, his massive brown iris contracting before me. I hadn't noticed Mr. Broussard slipping away, but he was nowhere to be seen. Remembering I was in fact armed, I conjured up my gauntlets and free myself from the handcuffs.

"Forgetting that only the classics work, eh?" Mr. Broussard shouts out from behind me.

I take a quick glimpse around- make that two glances. Mr. Broussard's cargo pants have a rip where the stray end of the handcuff hit it. A patch of fur extended out of the rip in the seam.

"So today I battled an Egyptian firebird, face a cyclops, and now you're a faun," I dryly remark. "This day has to be one long cruel nightmare. Next thing I know, I'm not quite human."

"First of all, I'm a satyr. Mr. Garfield the English teacher is the faun. Second, you're not wrong, but I honestly can't figure out what you are. You can battle an Egyptian monster with Greek and Roman weapons, which is usually not possible."

"That's not the craziest proposition I heard today," I say, rolling my eyes. "Since you so desperately need a classic, here's one before we waste any more time."

In my right hand, I wield a large compound bow with a string of the same glassy obsidian as the gladius. In my left, a bronze arrow extends from a compartment. It automatically comes out and lands itself in my hand. I take aim, drawing the bow as taut as I could possibly make it. What was formerly Officer Aucoin charges at me. I release the string but was too late to stop the cyclops' momentum. The arrow lodges itself into his eye. Screaming, he grabs me and Mr. Broussard, and in what I can only describe as a fit of rage, throws us both like Hail Mary Passes into the sky. I am too scared to even respond to the lethal heights we are being subjected to. 

I saw the Lake Ponchartrain Bridge on the way down, preparing to land head-first into brackish lake water when something fluffy picked me up and away.


	3. I Fly Home On A Winged Horse

I must have passed out in the air. I woke up in an alley by what I presume to be Bourbon Street to the sight of an older teenage guy. His hair is a dirty blond frizz. His eyes are a dark, silvery blue-grey, stormy and condescending like an approaching hurricane. Despite his ominous appearance, he speaks in a quite friendly tone.

"How are you?" he begins. "That was quite the height I found you two at. If I hadn't been there, y'all would have been alligator food."

"I'm doing surprisingly alright after being flung a thousand feet in the air by a Cyclops." I weakly respond.

"Another half-blood, I presume?" he answers.

"Another what?" I ask, very puzzled by his assumption.

"Do you know both of your parents?" he continues. 

"Before I answer that, may I ask who you may be?"

"I am Julian Hebert, son of Notus." he responds.

"Notus, as in God of the South Wind?" I respond. "Or also Auster, if I recall correctly."

After everything I encountered, his claim doesn't seem to be so wrong.

"Well, I am a Greek demigod," he replies. "There are also Roman demigods, but I assume you do not know of any such difference. My father was in his Greek aspect when he fathered me, so I shall refer to him as such."

"Back to your question, I am no demigod. I know both of my parents. My mother is Catherine Kwan of Hong Kong, and my father is Boris Romanchuk of Estonia. And the first monster I fought was Egyptian, but I did so with both a Greek and Roman weapon. I am so beyond confused at this point."

"You claim to have two mortal parents, yet you can see through the Mist?" he asks.

"The Mist? What does that even mean?"

"I mouthed this to you when you saw the Cyclops for what it is," Mr. Broussard finally answers, now that he is awake. His goat legs are bared in all of their furry glory. "The Mist is the force that keeps mortals from seeing what I really am. Some mortals have Clear Sight. But, by the way you can wield those weapons, you must have the blood of gods in you. Perhaps you're a Roman legacy, but I can't explain how you could battle an Egyptian monster."

"Also, your eyes," says Julian. "Normally, you inherit the eyes of your godly parent. My eyes are the same as Notus himself. However, your eyes don't say anything. They are as black as any other pair of Asian eyes I have ever seen."

"Good to know," I respond. "And my hair also doesn't say much either, don't they? It's as blond and straight as the Belarusians can be."

"I was wondering why your surname doesn't sound Estonian. In any case, we should probably go see your parents. Maybe they are demigods."

Now that I think about it, sometimes my Mom and Dad go disappear for days at a time before coming home. Being an only child can be so lonely sometimes.

"I shall leave for my other assignment," Mr. Broussard says. "You have a lot to question your parents about. Old Boris has some explaining to do."

When I finally returned home, my Mom and Dad had already received the police report. In a suspicious turn of events, they didn't even question the fact that I was last seen being launched into the air. They were also not in the least fazed by the son of Notus. Perhaps he's right.

"Julian, thank you for saving my son," Mom begins. "However, I must say that I am also not a demigod, nor is my husband. We have also battled monsters in our youth, but never have I encountered an Egyptian monster like a phoenix."

"I have," Dad begins. "Although the part where he says he killed it with a gladius and khopesh seems suspicious. Normally, I had to cast a Ha-di."

"So are you two legacies?" I asked.

"Son, it's time you learn the truth," Dad begins. "I am an Egyptian magician. We are Blood of the Pharaohs. One of our ancestors is Ramses II. Your mother is a Greek legacy. One of her ancestors is a Greek god. Perhaps that's why you could battle both kinds of monsters with the wrong tools."

That was an insane amount of information to take in despite the few words.

"I think he should train at Camp Half-Blood," Julian interjects. "Although you will have a swell of a time being stuck in the Hermes Cabin." 

"Is this some kind of demigod training camp?"

They all nodded in agreement.

"Sure, let's do this. I will need to defend myself in any way I can. I can forget about math and baseball for a while. This calls me."

"As the smart Renaissance man you are, Son, I think you know what our 'business trips' really were for," Dad says. "I have important business to attend to at the First Nome. There was this big thing that happened a few years back where some of our distant relatives had to fight off the end of the world."

"There was also a big civil war with Greeks and Romans a few years back," Julian continues. "I remember the insanity that was that summer. We stopped Gaea from waking, although it was a tough fight. I believe it's also high time for you to meet the twice Hero of Olympus, but I'll let you figure that one out."

"That's too many surprises for two days," I lament. "All I wanted was to see the new part of the World War II Museum, but that was ruined. Then I get arrested, only to be chucked over the Mississippi like some kind of human football. Then I learn that I am some divine being. What could be better?"

"I do not hope a Hero's fate upon you, son," Mom and Dad both say. Dad continues, "A hero's life is hard and usually tragic. Perhaps if you go to Camp Jupiter instead, that would provide some stability, but we have such a long history of divinity, it really doesn't matter where you happen to be next."

At night, I ponder my options. Now I know that the two of the mythologies I read about as a little kid are in fact real and that I am a descendant of them. Next thing I know, I'll be battling giant Chinese sky snakes in a Maserati on the World Tree. What else could possibly happen? I pack my bags and prepare to leave for New Jersey tomorrow at 3:00 PM.


	4. I Meet a Distant Relative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only post so many chapters a day. If you wish to read ahead, the story is fully complete on Wattpad.

Airplanes have always bothered me. I hated the long-haul flights it took to visit my grandparents in Hong Kong. Even a short three-hour flight to Newark is Hell for me. Or should I say now, Tartarus? Maybe Hel with one L. I'll take it. 

My parents opted not to come, so I have to fend for myself for a bit. Julian says he's staying the rest of the school year before he comes in June. A visitor in February can't be that uncommon. I scan my boarding pass, then take a seat. So far, so good. Thirty minutes of flight time and nothing much happens.

"Attention passengers," the intercom rings up. "Due to the possibility of severe weather further north, the plane is forced to stop in Charlotte, North Carolina. All tickets shall be refunded, and a complimentary flight shall be rescheduled. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Other than the fact that American Airline just offered to fly people for free, I don't fret it much. I can wait for another two days before going. Another hour or so later, the plane lands in Charlotte. I make my way to the counter and make arrangements for a flight on Thursday.

Just when I have any kind of positive thoughts, things go terribly wrong. All those judo and kendo lessons I suffered through as a kid, I now thank my parents for making me learn such skills. After I take my taxi to the hotel, I was hit by what I can only describe as a massive slap to the face. Then, behind me, there stand three snake-footed women. Dracaenas.

"Well, ladies, would any of y'all be so kind and dance with me?" I ask.

"Well, you silver-tongued lad, perhaps you can woo foolish mortals, but we know better," one responds. "Now, stand down and become our lunch. "

Unfazed, I unleash the gauntlets. Screw off, Mr. Broussard, let me have a shot. I punch and duck and kick at the dracaenas, each of them too slow to dodge my blows. Then, summoning spikes on the knuckles, I punch one hard in the back of her neck. It fades into specks of gold, a sight I don't think I can get used to. In a sudden twist around, I grab another dracaena from behind me and flip her into the last one. Both collapsed as heaps on the ground. I summon my khopesh and reap them both like barley. They faded into gold dust, the same way the other one has.

After that warm-up (I don't know why I am so cocky right now, being new to this whole monster-fighting thing), I check into my room on the thirteenth floor. A few hours of TV, reading, practicing AIME questions and planning my latest combat engineering exploits, it was time for dinner. I walk out and check into the dinner hall. Of course, something is waiting for me.

A cat casually strolls out of the room next door. I can't conceive of why anyone would travel with a cat, but here it is. She (it's calico, it has to be a she) approaches me with an odd gleam in her eye. I think nothing of it and walk towards the elevator. Then, I feel what I presume is the world's biggest kitty scratch. Thankfully, it didn't get far, but it did tear my favorite hoodie.

I turn around to see a large leopard creature several times larger than the kitten. Its neck is unnaturally long. At the end of the neck is a diamondback rattlesnake's head. What is this called again, a Servo Pad? Whatever it is, I charge at it. 

I feel a spurt of noxious liquid hit my right calf. Instantly, it burns like a splash of nitric acid leaving an orange smear. I take a step back and reorganize myself. I try to remember what my Dad said to do when one encounters something Egyptian, assuming this is Egyptian since they are so fond of cats. I try a few words, but they don't work.

"Ha-lee?" I tried. "Ha-gee?"

"Ha-wi!"

I don't think that was what Dad said, but I do it anyway. Suddenly, an enormous spiked gauntlet erupts in front of me. Or maybe it's a lightning bolt. Or at moments, it's even a rainbow? In any case, when the hologram makes contact with the Servo Pad, it knocks it into the ground. I approach the creature, conjure up my gladius, and just I was preparing to strike, I hear a voice from behind me.

"Ha-di!"

The monster shatters before my eyes. Behind me, a blonde girl a few years older than me approaches. Her hair is streaked with pink highlights, and her combat boots make me slightly nervous. She is about a head taller me. Her blue eyes look at me with devilish intrigue.

"Well, what a way to cheese off a nice lad," she says. London English, I believe. "Alright mate, you haven't a scratch on you?"

"Well, thank you, kind stranger," I say to her. "I'm not hurt, though my shirt is now ruined. I am having worse than a barmy week."

My ability to mimic accents still does not fail me, even at this moment.

"Say, a fellow Londoner?" she asks. "Perhaps this trip won't be so bad. May I ask why you were faffing about with a Serpopard?"

"Erm, I haven't a clue," I reply. I continue in my normal accent. "First of all, I am not actually from London. I'm from San Antonio. Second, I just learned the biggest secret of a lifetime. I don't have much to say for why. Third, who are you?"

"Sadie," she replies simply. "My uncle is Amos Kane. Perhaps you have heard of him, as he is the Chief Lector. You are a Magician, aren't you?"

"Not exactly," I begin. "My father is Boris Romanchuk. He is a Magician. My mother is a Greek or Roman legacy, whichever she might be. I have faced a medley of both Greek and Egyptian monsters since Tuesday, and it seems they won't stop any time soon."

"Did you say Greek?" Sadie asks. "I assume you are on your way to Manhattan. We Egyptians typically stay in Brooklyn, the location of the Twenty-First Nome."

"I may want to visit you later on," I say simply. "My name is Arthur, by the way."

"Splendid to meet you, Arthur," replies Sadie. "Perhaps I should contact my brother and my Greek friend. You will probably meet them anyway. I invite you to stay in Brooklyn since you are clearly Egyptian. We can train you to be a proper Magician. Although, you may not be as good as I am, me being Blood of the Pharaohs."

I already trusted this girl, but I had no idea why I should be. Then she drops that bombshell on me.

"You say you're Blood of the Pharaohs? Who's your ancestor?"

"I am descended from two Pharaohs," Sadie begins. "One is Narmer, the First Pharoah of Egypt. The other is Ramses II."

"Ramses II you say? That makes us distant cousins or something."

"You are a descendant of Ramses II? That explains why Romanchuk sounds so familiar. I believe my Uncle Amos mentioned the Romanchuks at some point."

"In any case, I am on my way to Camp Half-Blood, which I presume is in Manhattan. I'll have to come by another time."

"See you," Sadie says.

I make my way down to the dining hall, and help myself to some bacon. Meeting my distant relative in Charlotte was weird, but I have a feeling that will not be my first encounter with her.


	5. I Become The Sun

The next day, I check out of the hotel. It somehow manages to be hot at this time in Charlotte, in the middle of February. I had already called a taxi to make my way to the airport. I put my luggage in the trunk and sat down in the back. Typical day. Hopefully, nothing worse will come.

Once I arrive at the airport, I pay and tip the driver, check in, then make my way to Gate 11B. The flight to Newark was in several hours. I fell back into my old routine of study and entertainment. 

"Attention all passengers, the flight to Newark is canceled due to inclement weather," the intercom blares. It drones on for some time, but I already got the point.

It is mere minutes before the flight. I am beyond a bit ticked off at this point. Making my way to the desk yet again, I wait for some monster to attack me for the first time today. Nothing happens for a while, and I got really bored. I decide to snoop around the airport rather than go to check-in counter. 

In an odd turn of events, I get horribly lost and end up walking right onto the tarmac. Thank the gods I had a pair of noise-canceling headphones, for I would have lost my hearing. I walk about three steps when one airport tarmac worker spots me.

"What are you doing here, lad?" he asks. "This is no place for you to be."

"I'm sorry, I don't know how I ended up here," I answer. "I was simply looking for the bathroom."

"Well, Arthur, you can't possibly have ended up here by going to the restroom."

That was the giveaway. How in the world did he know my name?

Quickly, I summon weapons from my gloves. This time, I opt for bow and arrows to put some distance between me and him while avoiding any huge noises. The man proceeds to prowl on all fours. His body suddenly grows golden fur. What was his long mullet grew wilder and puffier. A tail sprouts out his rear end, barbed and shelled. A lone stinger protrudes at the end of the tail. On second thought, that hair is a mane. A lion's mane. I peer into the humanoid face of a manticore.

"Hey, I need backup!" he calls out. 

Suddenly, another lion creature drops down. This time, no scorpion tail, but a woman's face looks upon me. It's a sphinx.

"Great, now I'm really in trouble," I mutter to myself. 

I shoot the arrow at the manticore, who lazily swats it away. I nock arrow after arrow, sending as many volleys as I can. They all get knocked away. I start shooting two, four, oh my gods, sixteen arrows at a time. This was really getting desperate. How I manage to not get even one to hit, I don't know, but things are not good. I run behind the landing gear of a Boeing 737, desperately trying to fend them off. I had to avoid that stinger at all costs. I run past jets, luggage, carts, literally everything, all the while shooting so many arrows I skin my fingers. It was as though these lions are immune to arrows. Eventually, I run out of strength and hide behind a cart of luggage. I conjure up a pair of Berettas. I cock then and ready myself to shoot.

I was this close to pulling those damned triggers. Then, in a bright flash of light, an arrow lodges itself into the sphinx, who vanishes like all other Greek monsters. Then, another hits the manticore, who similarly succumbs. Putting away the guns, I look up. Or I did for a moment, for my eyes were blinded by the brightest light. It was as though the Sun itself was on a collision course with Earth. The already miserable North Carolina heat became sweltering.

When the heat finally faded, a cherry red Aston Martin is parked on the tarmac in front of me. The door snaps open. I am face to face with a tall blond guy. His golden robes shine brightly, complementing his piercing blue eyes. A bow and arrows and a large quiver were strapped to his back. He gazes upon me and smiles.

"Need a ride?" he asks me. "You can come out now. I saved you from those cats."

It took me a hot second to realize who was speaking to me.

"Lord Apollo?" I gasp out incredulously. I bow before his godly figure.

"Yes, that'll be me," he says. "It's about time I save a demigod from such a trap. Being a mortal was the worst thing to happen to me in centuries. I promised my brother to remember. When I saw you out there on the tarmac, bested despite your excellent archery skills, I knew it was time to help."

Being complimented by the literal God of Archery despite failing miserably was honest perplexing. But since he is also the God of Truth and Prophecies, I guess I can't question his words.

"I need a ride to Camp Half-Blood," I state simply. "It is a great honor to ride with the God of the Sun himself."

"The honor is mine, Arthur," he replies. "I owe it to my brother Jason after what he did for me. His sacrifice is among the many reasons I am once again a god. I don't know exactly who you are, though. From your scent alone, you are a demigod. It's as strong as any Big Three, but I don't know how. I can sense this much though: you are a descendant of me. Oddly enough, as I speak to you, I get a slight headache. Why that is, I cannot say for sure." 

Again, I probably shouldn't question a god, but I had so many questions.

"I know for a fact I am not a demigod," I begin. "I know both of my parents, and I know at least one is a legacy of some god. You have made it clearer, but that still doesn't explain everything.

"I was also attacked by Egyptian monsters. I am descended from an Egyptian Pharaoh. I am even able to fight Egyptian monsters with Greek weapons. What does any of this mean? What kind of sick cosmic joke is this? I spent almost twelve years of my life being a normal kid, and now that I'm nearly thirteen, I learn that the myths I read about are real and that I'm the descendant of the Sun God, or even gods. Who the hell am I?"

"That is not my question to answer, young hero," Apollo begins. "Whoever you may be, I know at least that you are very powerful, and old Father Zeus will not be happy with whoever you are. You alone can control the powers of two distinct pantheons, and from what I can see, you have no training. You are as flexible as a son of Hermes, but clearly you are blessed with my domain of archery. No one will believe who you may be. Although, I do have a prophecy of your existence, and I cannot say at this moment. For now, I'll take you to Camp."

We both board the Aston Martin, which I have to say, is really cool. Of course, it's actually the Sun Chariot, and Apollo is driving it at full throttle. In mere seconds, we were parked outside of Camp Half-Blood.


	6. I Give a God Schizophrenia

Camp Half-Blood was a lot more homely than I imagined. From the outside, it appears as a vast strawberry farm. I climbed a large hill with a sullen pine tree before seeing the entrance. A single stone path leads the way through rows of cabins. From the symbols, I deduce that each cabin hosts demigod children of their respective parents.

A centaur clops his way up the path from what appears to be a large mansion. He appears as a middle-aged man from the waist up, and a white stallion after that. He is wearing a white dress shirt with an Armani jacket. His long hair is sprawled all behind him. As soon as he sees Apollo behind me, his stare widens.

"Lord Apollo, I see that you have personally escorted a half-blood here," he begins. "Why have you appeared here? Is this someone special, perhaps another child of the Big Three? I do not see anything striking about this young lad, though."

"He is not a demigod from his own claims, but I have sensed far more about this child," Apollo replies. "His skill set is unlike any I have ever seen. I know is that he is a legacy of mine, but he's not an average legacy. He has as much divine blood as any demigod. He also mentions the Egyptian pantheon and his dealings with them. It's best he comes here. I have observed his movements, and he's under twice as much danger. The fact that he can enter camp is already a promising sign."

"Well, one of our satyrs must have already reported on him," the centaur mused.

"Sydney Broussard?" I ask.

"You're the demigod from New Orleans, Arthur Romanchuk?" the centaur questions. He begins to speak in Estonian, which was quite alarming. "I have heard of who you are. If the prophecy is true, we have little time to spare. Come, young one. We will get you situated immediately." 

Apollo leaves, and I follow the centaur to the mansion.

"My name is Chiron," he says, now back in English.

"Chiron, as in, the trainer of Achilles, Aeneas, and all those heroes before?" I interject.

"Yes indeed," he replies. "I see that you are a sharp one. There are many questions I need you to answer before we can integrate you into camp. I believe it's best you now live here year-round. You are under twice as much danger, being also claimed by the Twenty-First Nome."

I decide not to comment on how he knew that and his decision.

"Mr. D, or Dionysus, is our camp director."

Again, not going to question why.

"We will all sit for a game of pinocle. A sharp lad like you ought to know the rules already?"

"Yes, sir," I answer.

I enter the Big House. Ignoring the talking leopard on the wall and the pictures of many past heroes, we make our way to the game room. A pudgy man awaits us with decks of cards and many, many gold coins. Drachmas. The man has a purple Hawaiian shirt and a necklace of what appears to be grapevine. I bow before the God of Wine for a moment, an act he finds amusing.

Between rounds of Pinocle, I explain my whole story of the events of this week. I explained how I encountered my distant relative in Charlotte, and the several fights I got into.

"Your skills seem typical of a son of Hermes, being so adaptable." Chiron begins. "Yet you claim to be an excellent mason and combat engineer, typical of Hephaestus. You also have the archery of Apollo, the ability to hold your breath much longer than usual like a legacy of Poseidon, and brains worthy of Athena. Again, I question who exactly are you, and what does your arrival mean."

"I usually hold no sympathy for most demigods," Mr. D begins. "But seeing that you know nothing of your heritage, I will tell you this: you are also my legacy; I can sense that much. How come a legacy can be as divine as a half-blood is beyond me. Legacies of two or even seven gods at the same time are not uncommon, but you are truly someone unusual. What do you have to say for yourself?"

I turn to face Mr. D. Just as I was about to begin speaking, Mr. D begins to flicker.

"Oh Hades!" Dionysis moans out. "My head, oh my gods my head!"

In his flickering and moans of pain, I see a different person before me. He is wearing a Roman toga, and his can of Diet Coke shifts into a Diet Pepsi. He's leaner, and he wields a staff with a pine cone at its tip. His demeanor is far more serious, like the face of a disciplined army general. Is this what I think it is? I test my theory.

"Lord Bacchus, is that you?" I ask.

Suddenly, his form solidifies. His being settled on the form I saw in the flickering.

"Yes, Arthur Romanchuk," he answers. "There is something you haven't told me. What did Apollo say about what happens when he speaks to you?"

"He says he gets a slight headache," I answer. Suddenly, Bacchus shifts back into Dionysus.

"I see now. Perhaps it is because Apollo is still Apollo as a Roman, but you are far worse for gods like me. Now that I have sensed the same in both aspects, I know one more thing about you: you are my legacy in both aspects, Greek and Roman. How that happened is way beyond me at this point. Apollo must have felt the same. For now, you shall lodge in the Hermes Cabin. I cannot give you room in my cabin, nor in Apollo's cabin, for you are not a child of either of us. I shall go to Olympus at once to discuss you. For now, Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."

With that being said, Dionysis flashed himself out of the room.

"One must be wily with the Hermes campers," Chiron warns. "They are a rowdy bunch."


	7. I Pull the Prank of a Lifetime

What Chiron called the "rowdy bunch" was really just a handful of campers. Apparently, most campers don't stay year-round, but some do. Without knowing how, I find myself at the Hermes Cabin without any direction. Most of the cabins appear deserted, and their facades are impeccable.

"Your sense of direction is amazing, like a child of Poseidon at sea," Chiron notes.

"May I ask what are those cabins down there?" I ask.

"Those are the Big Three Cabins," Chiron explains. "Those remain mostly unused. Since the end of World War II, there have been few new demigod children of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. They made an oath to not have more children, but it was forcibly shattered with the first Great Prophecy of this century. Suddenly, six new Big Three demigods emerged. Regrettably, two of them are no longer with us."

"All eight of my great-grandparents were World War II veterans!" I exclaim. "But what did the gods have to do with this?"

"World War II started as a spat between Zeus and Hades," Chiron states. "Then, as the conflict progressed, the sons of Poseidon took note and began fighting for Zeus's children. Pretty soon, all of Europe and beyond was engulfed in war."

"What about my mother?" I ask. "She's Chinese."

"China fought for the Allies, didn't she? Well, I met Chiang Kai-shek when he trained here in the 1910's. He was a son of Zeus. At the same time, Camp Jupiter, our then-rival camp for Roman demigods, hosted Mao Zedong, a son of Pluto, and Hirohito, son of Bellona. They once had a temporary location in China for less-privileged demigods. Seeing who ultimately won that sequel conflict, I'd say Camp Jupiter was quite smart."

"Are many such famous figures demigods?" I ponder aloud.

"You would know their names if I said them," Chiron responds.

"I heard from Julian Hebert that there is a twice Hero of Olympus who went here," I respond. "I presume he is one of the sons of Zeus?"

"Actually, that one, he is a son of Poseidon," Chiron answers. "That boy was something. His name is Perseus Jackson, Percy for short." 

Chiron momentarily casts a wistful glance into the distance, then continues.

"He was about your age when he came here almost a decade ago. The big fiasco that year was that Zeus's lightning bolt was stolen. He brought a Satyr, the current Lord of the Wild, and his now-girlfriend, the Architect of Olympus, with him on his first quest."

Those were some big shoes to fill for any demigod.

"Perseus was such a lost kid. He had just seen his mother get abducted before his eyes. He was out on a quest almost as soon as he got here. At that moment, everyone accused Hades of orchestrating the whole ordeal, when it was actually the Titan Kronos. The trio took a trip across the entire country to Los Angeles to recover the Master Bolt. He succeeded, of course, but that was the least of his worries. For the next six years since then, he has endured two entire wars, countless dangerous quests, and even survived the depths of Tartarus. He has finally found a chance to settle down, and he certainly deserves it. He attends New Rome University in Camp Jupiter, and he's currently a senior majoring in marine biology. At age 21, he is as lively as ever, but one look in his sea-green eyes should tell you where he's been. I'd hate to bring him back here to meet you, but the Fates have no mercy, and we'll need him to train you."

"Julian also mentioned fighting in another war involving Gaea," I state, almost questioning.

"Perseus and six other demigods, a team of Greeks and Romans, sailed for several months and fought in Europe. The first events of the war involved Hera trading Percy for Jason, the then-leader of Camp Jupiter, to complete tasks for each camp. For eight months, we had no clue what was happening. When we finally got everyone in one place, something possessed Leo Valdez, the mechanic who built the Argo II, their ship. It caused him to attack Camp Jupiter. A civil war occurred here in the United States while the Argo II sailed Europe. Eventually, we came to a peace agreement as Gaea began to wake."

"Apollo mentioned Jason's sacrifice," I say. "I assume he is one of the demigods no longer with us."

Chiron nods solemnly, then points towards a statue on a hill. It is a shiny gold. A warlike woman with a spear and shield holds another smaller humanoid in her right hand. I then realize I am looking upon the goddess Athena.

"That is the Athena Parthenos. It was lost since Roman times. Annabeth Chase, the Architect of Olympus and a daughter of Athena, recovered it. It took a daughter of Bellona, the Roman war goddess, and a son of Hades to bring it back and bring peace to both camps."

"How does Athena have children?" I question. "Isn't she a maiden goddess?"

"I think any Athena camper can answer that for you," Chiron says simply.

I make myself present at the Hermes cabin. 

"Regular or undetermined?" a camper, presumably the counselor, calls out. He has sandy blond hair and blue eyes. He's tall and lanky, like he's built for speed. A six sense tells me he's an excellent pickpocket, but then I remember Hermes is the God of Thieves.

"Indeterminate," Chiron answers. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" the counselor asks.

"You'll see as you attempt to train him, Conner."

The rest of that day was a long and difficult endeavor. I manage to beat some Hermes campers in a foot race, shoot six bulls-eyes at once with one draw, beat an Ares camper in a sword fight while completely unarmed, row a canoe without a paddle, win a singing and music contest against an Apollo camper, and do makeup better than any Aphrodite camper. I never thought I'd thank my mother for making me an Asian stereotype, but today, I did. By the end of the day, I am tired, and everyone else at camp is exasperated.

The dinner pavilion is quite nice to say the least. The food here is excellent, and quite healthy. Everyone sacrifices food to a god, but I have no clue who is right for me. Since he did save me today, I make my choice.

"Apollo, my ancestor, please accept my humble offering."

I drop a slice of roast beef, a few strawberries (seriously, these are everywhere), and the most well-buttered breadstick on my plate into the shrine. A pleasant gold smoke billows out. My mouth waters at the scent. It smells better than the smoke TNT leaves after a nice day of at the demolition derby.

"Now I know what they mean by 'indeterminate,' Arthur," my counselor, Conner, says to me.  
"If it were up to appearance, I'd say you're a son of Hades. Those black eyes say it all. But, you are as much of a jack-of-all-trades as any Hermes camper, as crafty as any son of Hephaestus, and you're better at archery than literally every Apollo camper here. You did mention being a legacy of Apollo and Mr. D, but they also say you're their descendant from both their Greek and Roman aspects? Whatever family tree tangled to make you must look like a rope!"

"Anyway, I have the perfect plan for Arthur to execute," another Hermes camper, Horatio, begins. "Since Arthur clearly has a lot of skills, I wonder if he's any good at magic."

I show them my vast library of card tricks, coin tricks, and other small pieces of petty magic. With a little bit of thought, I learned how to control the Mist today, enhancing their effects.

"Sweet, Arthur," Horatio says. "Want to prank a god?"

"Beats anything I've done all week," I reply.

That night, Conner, Horatio, a few other Hermes campers, and I sneak into the strawberry fields when it was supposed to be light's out. As the campers quickly picked at a strawberry plant, I capture the image of a bare plant in my mind. Then, focusing on what it would look like wilted, I project the image onto the plant. Soon, the entire field of berries looked like that to me. I snap my finger, and the trick of the Mist is complete. Afterwards, I feel a bit drained, as though I used a lot of strength to pull off such a simple trick. 

The next day, I wake to the sight of an absolutely livid centaur and an impossibly confused god of wine.

"Arthur Romanchuk!" Chiron bellows. "Come forth this instant!"

I step out towards the pair of disgruntled camp directors.

"What did you do? You managed to knock out an entire half a year worth of revenue for the camp! First day here, and those Hermes campers have made you a troublemaker."

"Chiron, I am confused," says Dionysus. "The plants, they are not dead. I can feel the fruits still on the bushes. But this magic, it's beyond a simple trick of the Mist. I can still see them if all Arthur did was that."

Chiron's angry expression falters, then his eyes widen as though he had solved the world's hardest integral.

"Arthur, what did you do?" he questions sternly.

"I thought I only did a trick of the Mist," I snap my fingers to prove that, but the illusion stayed. It's as though everyone else is blindfolded, for I can still see the lush strawberry fields. "Huh, let me try that again."  
  
I snapped again, this time concentrating my strength onto lifting the illusion. The fields slowly returned to their lushness. Then, being hit with a sweet aroma, I suddenly realize I had also taken away the smell of the berries. The other campers present suddenly take note. Soon, a sea of wide eyes stares back from the crowd.

"I think we discovered another one of his godly ancestors," Mr. D declares.

"Who?"

"Dolos, or Mendacius, God of Trickery."

Suddenly, I see my vision fade to black and feel my back crash against the stone path.


	8. I Win a Game By Losing

I wake in what appears to be an infirmary. A blond guy, Will Solace I believe, stands over me.

"Here, drink this," he says.

I look upon a glass of golden liquid. It looks like apple cider but spiked with gold powder. A single ice cube sits in the middle of the glass. Despite its unnatural metallic gleam, with my thirst getting the best of me, I reach over and take a sip.

I expected something along the lines of apple juice. Instead, I am hit with a medley of flavors. One moment, it tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream. The next, it tastes like my po po's radish cakes. Then, it tastes like a nice ribeye steak in a disturbing liquid form. It is warm despite the ice cube in the latter two flavors. It's cycling through the flavors of all of my favorite foods, I realize.

Instantly, I felt my strength come back to me. I gulp down the rest of the glass as Will Solace suddenly tries to grab it.

"Woah, slow down there, buddy," he yelps. "Too much will burn you up."

"I have no clue what you're talking about," I say. "I can still use another glass."

I reach out for the pitcher and pour another glass of this magic liquid. I gulp it all down in another quick swig.

"How?" Will asks, absolutely bewildered. "That much should have given you a fever."

I shrug off his question.

"Anyway, you're lucky it's only Thursday morning," he continues. "Tomorrow night, we play Capture the Flag. Those Hermes campers will be all over you."

A camp tradition I can really get down with is Capture the Flag. They usually play every Friday during the summer, but during the winter, they still hold a session every once in a while. There are more campers here than usual for this time of the year, according to Chiron, but two teams of eleven hardly seem like a game. I spend most of the day training.

Tonight, it is the Hermes cabin versus everyone else. I've heard stories from the other campers, including the legendary one from last year, where the red team led by the Ares cabin simply hid in the creek at the boundary line. When the opposing blue team led by Athena campers approached, they were drawn in by blunted scythes. Such a tactic seemed simple, but the Ares cabin hasn't had a history of wit.

The other team tried desperately to bribe me to join their side. The Aphrodite campers tried some flirting, the Ares campers tried to intimidate me, the Apollo campers simply tried drachmas and more of that magic liquid, and a medley of other single campers try whatever they have to offer. Their price was pretty crap for what I had to offer, but whatever.

Just before the game, I overhear Will and Chiron talking.

"I couldn't believe my eyes!" Will begins. "Arthur can drink nectar like a god, without a care in the world. The boy had two tall glasses of the stuff and did not appear the least bit feverish."

I should have guessed. That stuff was nectar, as in nectar and ambrosia. Godly food is delicious and unusual.

"Well, I think we'll need to offer Hermes a pay raise for all the extra deliveries we'll need from him to feed Arthur," Chiron muses.

That night, at 6:00 PM, the game begins.

"Arthur, how hard would it be for you to do more of that illusion magic?" asks Conner.

"Not too hard," I answer. "What do I need to do?"

"Take this stick," he answer. I grab what appears to be a large tree branch. "Turn this into the flag and the flag into this."

I take a good look at the Hermes flag. It has a staff encircled by snakes, a caduceus, I believe. Underneath that is a pair of winged sneakers.

Slowly, the two items trade places. What was the stick became a flag to everyone's eyes. Everyone's except for Chiron and Dionysus, this time being careful to not cheat.

With the items secure, we head off into the forest.

The playing field is absolutely massive for a team of eleven to defend. The forest seemed to continue for millions of miles. No matter what we did, we will be hopelessly overextended, but thankfully, the other team is no better off.

I take a defensive position near the creek. At this point, the channel deepens enough for me to fully stand up as the creek meanders into the sea nearby. Choosing to use an automatic crossbow I built as part of my heritage test tonight, I nock an arrow and wait.

After about fifteen seconds, I hear loud footsteps. An Ares camper is approaching the creek, presumably trying to do what I am already doing. Taking a good look at his head, I aim and let the bow loose. 

The bow let the ammunition go with a satisfying spring. The golden blunted arrowhead flies at a flatter trajectory than I would like, but it was still enough to catch the target by surprise. It hit hard into his thigh, interrupting his next step. He falls down against a tree. 

Quickly working my illusion, I make it appear as though I am running up to him. Magic-me charges at the camper, who has stood up and blown his horn, presumably to call for reinforcements. The real me steps backward towards a tree. I had previously spotted what appeared to be a ladder of some kind. I climb up the ladder to find a nice hidden base. The eta carved into the doorway indicated it was built by Hephaestus campers. A few glances into the small edifice reveals several arrow loops cut out of the walls. 

I send a signal to Horatio, who I spot being about 100 feet away from the position. He is being pursued by Will Solace, his bow and arrow and combat ukelele (something Apollo did in his mortal exploits, I believe) gleaming from afar. I reach into my pack, take out the telescope, and mount it on my crossbow. I zero in on Will's figure, prime the arrow the crossbow reloaded, and let it fly.

The blunt arrow flew for about six seconds before hitting Will in his back. The sudden hit causes him to lose the aim of his bow and allows Horatio to disarm him completely. Having seen my signal, Horatio approaches the ladder. I meet him at the bottom.

Horatio and I regroup at the boundary creek. He tells me Conner had already breached the enemy territory.

"Well, we win!" yells an Aphrodite camper. She holds the flag I had hid earlier, appearing to me as a stick still. Remembering my trick from yesterday, her arrogant smile falters. "Wait, is this really the flag?"

As soon as I see Conner approach the creek with the real Ares flag, I snap my fingers. Instantly, the flag reverts to a stick. I look behind me to see Whitney, a fellow Hermes camper, holding the real flag in her hand. She had used the actual flag as a weapon.

"NO FAIR!" bellows the Ares camper from before, who I now know is named Gordon. "You can't hold the flag during the match!"

"All is fair in love and war," I respond. "And we were guarding a flag, just not the one you saw."

"There have been no rules about this before," Chiron suddenly starts, clopping his way down from his outpost. "We don't see many children, or in this case, legacies, of Dolos, for they can survive in the mortal world quite well. From now on, trickery and illusions of the magical kind are fair game as long as both teams have a child of Dolos. As long as the flag appears correctly to Mr. D or me, I will allow it to be held."

The Hermes campers hold me up like mosh pit jumpers. However, the celebration did not last long. Out the corner of my eye, I see the faintest hairs of lion mane.


	9. I Arm Wrestle With a God

I jump off my fellow campers in an instant. The creature with a lion's mane stands menacingly at the edge of the creek. What I mistook to be a mane is actually a wreath of deathly white feathers. The animal has the head of a bald eagle, oversized falcon wings, and where it's supposed to have front legs it has large orange talons. The look of shock from everyone around me tells me they have never seen such a thing before. Only Chiron has a slightly different expression, one of disturbing recognition. Realizing I have my combat gloves on, I will them into gauntlet form and proceed to charge.

This Egyptian griffin stands as still as a tree. Suddenly realizing someone is approaching, it dodges my punch. Switching plans, I put away my gauntlets, stand back, assert my ground, and pull out my crossbow. I pull out the magazine in my back pocket holding the Celestial Bronze arrows and load it in. In a span of about four seconds, I nock and fire off ten arrows.

The other campers try to attack the creature, but nothing works. Will's ukelele and Gordon's spear bounce harmlessly off the creature's back. The griffin swipes at Horatio, sending him flying into a tree. Another swipe to Whitney and she tumbles backward into the flag-holding Aphrodite camper. Only my arrows had any effect on the griffin, but clearly it was doing not much at all. Straining to remember what Sadie used to cast off the serpopard, I call out whatever comes to mind.

"Ha-di!" 

Instantly, a hieroglyph appears in the air. It takes the shape of a long reaping blade, like a scythe. It slices into the griffin, and in an underwhelming show of force, disappears.

Chiron finally recovers his wits and clops towards me.

"You never told me you're a Magician," he says.

"I am no such thing," I answer. "My father is. He is Boris Romanchuk."

"You're Blood of the Pharaohs as well," Chiron remarks. He truly is a wily old centaur. "Why had I not realize this before? I'm sorry, child, I cannot keep you safe anywhere, it appears. That Egyptian griffin can breach Greek magical barriers as though it doesn't exist. However, I do advise you to say here at camp. Here, you're at least safe from Greek monsters."

Suddenly, two bright light flashes behind Chiron. Dionysus and Apollo emerge from the light. Everyone takes a bow before either god says a word.

"Arthur Romanchuk, you are needed on Mount Olympus," Apollo begins. "Lord Zeus wants to have a word with you. I advise you to try and think of us in only the Greek aspect. It does not hurt me much, but after hearing Dionysus's story, I believe it can be much worse."

With that being said, both gods grab me, and we all flash away in a hazy light.

Mount Olympus is a grand sight indeed. The marble edifices and surprisingly sleek and modern architecture impressed me thoroughly. Despite being thousands of years old, these gods really can move with the times. Then, I remembered that someone named Annabeth Chase had designed these new buildings. I hope to meet her and learn her excellent architectural ways. Being a polymath has always involved learning so many unrelated things, and I intend to be both an excellent combat engineer as well as an architect. Nymphs and other minor immortals bustle about the busy city square. Off to the side of the one of the small marketplace stalls lies elevator doors labeled 600. I don't know what building could possibly have 600th floor, but clearly these gods do.

"I see that you admire the architecture," Apollo suddenly says. "Annabeth Chase, that upstart. She defeated Kronos along with her boyfriend, who is quite possibly my favorite cousin. She recovered her mother's statue when many of her siblings couldn't. Then, unbelievably, she and the boyfriend manage to survive the depths of Tartarus. She did an excellent job with these buildings indeed. Now she's some big-shot architect in the mortal world, working with clients like Bill Gates, who she doesn't even know is her older brother!"

"Wait, Percy Jackson is her boyfriend?" I question.

"They're old news here on Olympus," Apollo answers. "I know what you may be thinking: what about Poseidon and Athena? Don't they hate each other? Well, they finally set aside their differences for once. These two are some of the most powerful demigods we've ever seen. Percy is certainly the most powerful of the century, although from what I've seen, he may be showing his age."

I feel super uneasy at this notion. How could I, a puny twelve-year-old, hope to compare to a demigod like Percy? I'm not even a demigod! Then again, Percy likely hasn't dealt with both Greeks and Egyptians.

"Did I mention that Percy is the first Greek demigod in centuries to host an Egyptian god?"

Nevermind. I was wrong.

"Still, what do you see in me that could make me even hope to challenge the guy?" I spit out. "This guy saved your home twice in a span of two years. I'm just some prepubescent kid who started fighting monsters this Tuesday! And, I have at least twice as many ways to get killed before I do anything interesting."

"Don't sell yourself short, kid," Dionysus interjects. "Somehow, you have the ability to subdue us gods. That prophecy has everyone nervous. Only time can tell what can be said."

The three of us reach the center of the city square. A circle of giant thrones appears before me. Twenty-feet tall humanoids sit in these massive chairs. On the other side of the circle sits a middle-aged man in a pinstriped suit. His black hair is long and a bit messy, as though he hadn't combed this morning. His blue eyes are piercing and the color of the sky. In his left hand, he holds a large bronze lightning bolt. Zeus. Holding his other hand is Hera, a middle-aged lady with a serious demeanor.

Beside Zeus and on his left sits a man of similar age in a fishing shirt and cargo shorts. His sea-green eyes seem to flicker like the Sun does on water. His beard is wild but well-trimmed. Poseidon.

I mentally check off the list of Olympians in my head: auburn-haired, silver-eyed Artemis, her skin glowing like moonlight; a young girl with a fiery aura, the calming and warm Hestia; a beautiful blonde lady, her looks so amazing I feel myself blush, plucks at her perfect eyelashes, the goddess Aphrodite; a lame, stone-faced man, his oil-slicked shirt like a mechanic, the god Hephaestus; Athena, who I have already seen a statue of; a muscly army sergeant I presume to be Ares; a sandy-haired delivery guy in a track outfit, Hermes; and Demeter, a blonde woman in a green dress holding a box of Cheerios.

After Apollo and Dionysus take their seats, I bow before the gods. I then notice one of the thrones is conspicuously empty. It is dark obsidian in color and as smooth and glassy as the stone. I realize who would normally sit there: Hades.

"Lord Zeus, it is an honor to meet you," I begin. "May I ask why I am here today?"

Zeus looks at me with a neutral facial expression, though his eyes said otherwise. 

"Arthur Romanchuk, your politeness truly impresses me," Zeus begins. "It has been years since someone so humble graces my ears. However, it has come to my attention that somehow, you're causing serious trouble in the world of gods.

"You have been observed being attacked by both Greek and Egyptian monsters. Even though I have seen many demigods with hard lives, not even I can wish such a clash on any mortal myself. This mixing of pantheons is quite alarming, and all sources trace back to you."

I try to fathom what is being said. I am the cause of a worldwide fiasco?

"Lord Zeus, I do not understand," I reply. " I have spent the first eleven, almost twelve years of my life in relative peace. I did not know my parents have godly affiliations to them. I don't know how I am affecting your world, but I truly apologize for anything I have done."

"Perhaps that upstart Percy Jackson can learn a thing or two from you," Zeus muses. "The guy has certainly grown a bigger head since he saved this place twice, however oblivious he is to that. However, I can't say you yourself have done anything wrong. I am here to discuss with you the recent Great Prophecy.

"Never before has three Great Prophecies been fulfilled in the same century, much less in the span of less than a decade. The first two have been known for millennia, but it took until the twenty-first century CE until they were fulfilled. Now, we have been issued with the first new prophecy since the Trojan War. Hermes, bring forth the Oracle of Delphi."

A moment later, a young redheaded woman walks into the throne circle. Her hair is frizzy and explodes from her head in all directions. Her eyes are a piercing emerald green. Her face is dotted with a multitude of freckles. She is slim, tall, and appears about ten years older than me.

"Hello, Arthur," she says to me. "I am Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the Oracle of Delphi. Please ask your question."

"What is the Great Prophecy?" I immediately blurted out.

Suddenly, Rachel jerks erect, her back stiff and straight like a soldier standing at attention. In a voice that certainly isn't the sweet, sultry sound I heard a moment before, lines of a poem most cryptic blare off for all to hear:

Immortal consequences for many mortals' sin,  
A trial for the one and many next of kin.  
One child emerges from bloodlines uncertain,  
Who dares to cover the world like an untamable curtain.  
Co-dominions and pantheons clash as one immortal flame,  
And in the end, only one shall seal the blame.

A deafening silence permeates the room. Rachel collapses before me, and Hermes carries her back off to wherever she came from. The third line really has me worried. I have to be the child of the uncertain blood, right? However, the rest is a cryptic mess my English teacher, Mrs. Guillot, would have loved to over-analyze to shreds. The gods look upon me with what passes for sympathy.

"If that had you worried, don't be," Hestia says. "These prophecies have an endless number of meanings. However, none from the Oracle of Delphi had ever been that vague. It's more like one from the Grove of Dodona."

"Aunt Hestia," Apollo responds. "We can theorize endlessly about what could rise to such a prophecy, but we have more pressing matters at hand. Uncle Hades is in serious danger."

"Yes, that is the other reason we need you here, Arthur," Zeus interjects. "My brother has been reporting a strange chasm that has formed in the middle of the Underworld. For now, he has closed off the Underworld for living visitors until June. One worrying sign is the emergence of griffins and other classically Egyptian monsters from this chasm. So far, his army has been able to hold them at bay, but it will only be a matter of time before he is overrun. We will need you to pay a visit to him as soon as the June deadline passes. For now, stay at Camp Half-Blood. We can at least keep you partially safe there. Tomorrow, I shall convene with Horus at the Neutral Zone. Until then, take care, Humble One."

In a dramatic flash of lightning, Zeus and Hera flash out of the room. The other gods take one more look at me, then flash out without a word. All of them, except for Ares.

"Well, punk, I think old Sun-Boy and Pinecone-Staff have probably told you about how gods sense descendants," Ares begins. "Well, let's see if you're man enough to be my legacy. You were so meek to apologize, I would have sworn you're a girl."

"Well, how bad could this be?" I interject. "I can give you a migraine right this moment."

"How so?" Ares spits back. "You dare bash the God of War's head in?"

"No, Lord Ares, or should I say, Lord Mars?"

Instantly, his figure begins to flicker. However, instead of being in agony, Ares abruptly shrinks to the size of 6'3". His figure splits in two, and before me stand two different beings. One is Ares as he appears before. The other is a man of similar appearance but wearing a United States Marines uniform. Over this uniform is a purple Roman toga. Neither appears to be suffering a headache at this very moment.

"Very well, young Arthur," the Roman American, Mars, says. "You have finally freed me from that idiot for a bit."

"Watch your mouth, Mars," Ares snorts. "We are the same person, you and I."

"I do not condone unnecessary bloodshed. You ought to remember that we were once two different gods. War is a means to an end, not a sadistic bout of indulgence. I will leave you to your petty hazing. I refuse to believe this child has your blood as well as mine running through his veins."

With those words, Mars and Ares fuse once more, settling on his Greek aspect. Ares conjures up a large wooden table with a stool at either end.

"Well, punk, here's a good old-fashioned round of arm wrestling. Sit down and let us begin."

Hesitantly, I sit on my side and grab the man's giant right hand. As soon as I make good contact, I feel him begin to push on my unprepared arm. Quickly, I recollect my wits and push back.

I want to say it was over in a mere moment, but it was much, much shorter. I instantly turn the tide and slam Lord Ares's arm into the other side. He looks at me not with contempt, but immense surprise.

"A legacy of Kratos as well as me, young lad?" he muses. "I can't think of a better combination! You are more than worthy of being my son, much less my legacy. I assume you need a way back to Camp. Here, son."

He places one hand on my right shoulder. We both flash out. Once I can see again, I am standing in front of the Ares Cabin, rather than the Hermes. Not questioning why nor where did Ares go, I run off to the sword-fighting area to start my day's training.


	10. I Get A Nice History Lesson

Since that fateful Tuesday in February, I want to say my time at Camp has passed swimmingly. After my conversation on Olympus and that little stunt with Ares, the Ares Cabin began to respect me.

"He arm-wrestled our dad at full strength and won?" I overhear Gordon say. "We may be his great-great-great uncles or something, but none of us could do that. I know every somewhat powerful son of Ares gets this initiation ritual, but he's not even a demigod!"

More campers began trickling in. By the end of April, every cabin except for the Big Three had at least four occupants. Of course, Apollo and Aphrodite are now packed. These gods are the epitomes of loose morals. 

I spent the lest few months acting like any other camper. I practice swordplay, play volleyball, do archery tricks, anything they had to offer. Of course, I settle into my old pattern of being way better than everyone else at everything. I can be a combat medic as well as any other Apollo child, build stuff as well as a Hephaestus camper (though that might be due to my previous hobbies of combat engineering and masonry), and beat Ares campers armed to the teeth while I only wear a tank top and shorts at fighting (seriously, learn some mano a mano). 

The classes that truly had me in trouble were the language classes. I learn Greek from Malcolm, the head counselor of the Athena cabin, and Latin from Chiron. When I told them I had dyslexia, they took that as a good sign. It apparently means my brain is hardwired for Greek or Latin. They also admired my multilingualism, saying that Greek or Latin should be pieces of cake. My gods they were wrong.

"I have never seen anything like this," Chiron states, clearly drained. "You say that this happens all the time when you write English?"

Chiron points at the Latin text I attempted to copy. It is, once again, written in a mix of Cyrillic, Latin, and now Greek letters.

"Can you read this text to me?" he asks.

I strain my eyes at the text. Latin is so much like Spanish in some ways, but I can't read that particularly well either. My pronunciation was on-point when I could actually see what I read, but most of it was a flying mess of ink.

"You're even dyslexic reading Latin!" Chiron exclaims. "Did you just say that Aeneas is the son of a deer?"

"I spoke seven languages since I was born, and I have never been able to keep them straight," I say, flushing with embarrassment. "My teachers often made me rewrite my essays because I kept writing words from either the wrong language, in the wrong script, or even both. You can only imagine the headache my English teacher had when I had inserted Chinese characters into my essay."

"Well, Arthur, seeing that you're clearly excelling at all your other activities, I believe it's high time for you to spend all your efforts learning Greek and Latin," Chiron declares. "I admire the spirit of the Chinese mother, always pushing their children to be well-versed at everything." 

"Perhaps that's why Hermes took such a liking to China during the nineteenth century," Chiron continues, now clearly off-topic. "When we were based in Britain, all of the gods were flung to places on Earth new and far from Europe. Hermes took a liking to Hong Kong, its nice harbor making an excellent trading post for his operations. We encountered more of our pagan compatriots and co-rulers than ever before. Soon, Apollo had deals with all sorts of African gods who wanted to borrow the Sun Chariot and Aphrodite was fighting over men with the other love goddesses. That was our longest period of interacting with other pantheons. The Romans had nothing on this level of connection.

"Of course, a minor prophecy in godly terms emerged. Apollo foresaw the rise of Germany and its resulting consequences. Soon, we had to make the decision to relocate Olympus once more. Hades, Dionysus, and Hermes argued heavily in favor of the future nation of Germany. Zeus and Poseidon favored America. Athena argued neither would be wise, for we still didn't know if Prussia or Austria would succeed, or if either will grow powerful. After a few decades of argument, we decided on America, and set our deadline for 1860.

"We moved here in time for the American Civil War, which had a harsh effect on gods. Their previous escapades here left children both Greek and Roman, whose rivalry have incapacitated gods for centuries. Only fifty years later, the events of the prophecy came to pass. The First World War, as mortals now call it, was a brutal affair for them: the first global war. What the Olympians don't want to remember to this day was the Great War that paralleled it in the godly world."

"The gods had their own Great War?" I question.

"Gods don't measure wars in deaths, for they can't die. They measure in the amount of pain they suffered or by how many god they had to free from Tartarus or other oblivions. Do you remember what happened in the First World War?"

"One of my great-grandparents fought in both world wars. He fought on the Eastern Front, the Turkish Front, and at Gallipoli with the Australians. When Russia was defeated, he fled and fought on the Western Front for the French. I remember his war stories, passed down to me so lovingly by my grandfather, about the first time he encountered African soldiers. In particular, he described what I now know were African demigods. Their magic was unlike anything he had ever seen. He called their magic 'barbaric,' and its effects on the battlefield was just that."

"There is the problem, Arthur," Chiron explains. "The British, French, and Germans were drafting hundreds upon thousands of African and Indian demigods to fight in Europe, depriving the African and Hindu gods of their ability to defend against their own enemies. They blamed us and the Norse for depriving them of their children. Pretty soon, the conflict was rippling through all the world's pantheons. Gods in each took sides. Whether you were Norse, Greek, Indian, or Igbo didn't matter. The worst battle happened at what mortals call the Somme. Here, Zeus, Hermes, Frey, Osiris, all the big-name European gods, fought gods like Chukwu, Vishnu, Shiva, and other non-European gods. These battles raged parallel to the demigods' clashes, what mortals call the French Army Mutinies, and the mortal machine guns of the Somme. Artemis and Dionysus have nightmares about that war even to this day, a whole century later. Greek or Hindu, Allied or Central, Mortal or Immortal, the 1910's were a time of great horrors. That decade was so bad us immortals hardly remember the war just two decades later."

"How did the gods not get struck down?" I ask.

"The gods can only be struck down to their own dominions. Greek gods can be cast down to Tartarus. Egyptians can be sealed off in the Duat. Every god can only disappear to their own version of oblivion. When Vishnu tried casting Zeus off to Shiva's realm, nothing happened except for a really angry god of the sky."

"That wasn't the only consequence of the war, right?" I question. There just had to be more to this story.

"You're a prime example of the other major issue, Arthur," Chiron answers. "Notice that you are born of three pantheons: Greek, Roman, and Egyptian. Those lonely young men in the trenches had chances to visit lots and lots of lonely women. Many of their favorites were demigod children of Freya, Aphrodite, and the other beauty goddesses. War babies were shameful enough for mortal women. Demigod women raised many children of dual nature with conflicting morals and hybrid power. Regrettably, most of them met an untimely end, being unable to control their conflicting natures in time to fight off an outrageously diverse array of monsters."

"The gods really take on traits of their host countries, don't they?" I muse. "The worst war in British history was the First World War. It was as horrible for the gods who lived there too."

"It's amazing how much mortals can change the gods with just a bit of thought," Chiron says. "Some fuss Apollo had when powdered wigs were in style."

"Chiron," Conner calls out. He strolls in the room as though he's brimming with excitement.  
"There's someone who would like to meet with you."

"Tell them to come to my office," Chiron replies. "Arthur, I think I know who it is. Come with me."


	11. I Spar With The One And Only

We walk down to the Big House and into Chiron's office. I pull out another chair for the guest Chiron's expecting. Chiron situates himself into his magical wheelchair. 

A moment later, the door opens with a thud, and a man walks in. He looks about ten years older than me. He has wild jet-black hair, unkempt yet neat in a strange way. His features are chiseled and hard, like an experienced warrior, with a dark and brooding expression. His eyes are sea-green, bright and, in contrast to the deadly look of the rest of his face, full of mischievous mirth. His 6'3" stature forces him to crouch beneath the doorway. I feel as though many of the campers have described this exact man several times, but at this moment, I can't recall his name. The man takes a good glance at me and smiles a lopsided smile, making him look like a scheming Hermes camper. He sits his lean, muscular figure down in the chair I brought out for him.

"Percy, good to see you again," Chiron says. "How has college life been treating you?"

"Oh, you know, Chiron, the usual," Percy answers. "The professors can't get enough of my talking to fish, but it's a usual day. A few years of bashing by Annabeth has made me a much better student, but I still can't wait to enter graduate school."

The sarcasm dripping from his voice was unbelievable. So this was the famous Hero of Olympus, son of Poseidon, and who I can apparently challenge in power. Already I feel both intrigued and uneasy.

"Who is this young lad?" Percy asks Chiron.

"Would you like to introduce yourself?" Chiron asks. 

"Sure," I begin. "I am Arthur Romanchuk. I am supposedly the legacy of several gods. Currently, I live with the Hermes kids."

"You're undetermined?" Percy asks, almost offended. "I should go to Olympus myself and-"

"No, you don't understand. Chiron calls me indeterminate. I don't have a godly parent. My father is an Egyptian magician, and my mother a Greek and Roman legacy. I assume you are Perseus Jackson, the legendary Hero of Olympus? I am honored to meet you."

I extend my hand to him. Percy almost pales at what I said, and only shakes my hand half-halfheartedly. 

"Another one who thinks I'm a legend," Percy muses. "I can't wait to become a god."

"You two both like to sell yourselves short, I see," Chiron chuckles out. "You two will get along splendidly. Now, Percy, state your business here. You are now going-on twenty-two years old and too old for the camp. I would let you stay in your cabin, but that would be improper. If you must stay, you are to stay in one of the Big House's guest rooms."

"I had a nightmare a while back," Percy begins. "The usual demigod nightmares. I believe I saw a lion creature of some kind. It had an eagle's head and some other oddly birdy features. I saw a dark silhouette shoot it with what appeared to be a crossbow. Then, a loud shout and it was gone." 

Percy then turns to look at me. 

"Now that I can see you, I realize you were the silhouette in my dream. Chiron, I would like to have a word with this boy."

"Go ahead, Percy," says Chiron. "I shall go back to my Latin classes, which I will need to have a one-on-one session with you tonight, Arthur."

"Whatever, it's a Tuesday, nothing much happens anyway," I respond.

Chiron then steps out of the door. Percy now turns his attention to me.

"You say you have no demigod parents, and that you're the son of an Egyptian magician," he continues. "I doubt such a claim, and hearing the camper's stories of you, I buy it even less. Are you sure you're not some exceptionally talented Hermes camper?"

"I am sure of it," I answer. "I heard about your own run-ins with the Egyptians. Something about hosting a god?"

"Who told you that?"

"Apollo."

Percy chuckles uneasily. "The old Sun God, what a swell of a time he had that year. Unfortunately, his quest killed my co-captain back on the Argo II. That reminds me. The campers here claim you're the best swordfighter here since when I camped here. It's been a long time since I sparred with a sword, all those pesky studies getting in the way. Care for a match this afternoon?"

"I'm more interested in learning than going toe-to-toe, but sure," I reply.

"You sound just like my girlfriend," Percy snorts.

"Annabeth, that's her name?" I ask. Percy nods. "I would love to learn from her! The architecture on Olympus was absolutely stunning! Of course, I did have some gripes about the questionable support beams used on the temple of Hera, but it's not my place to correct the Architect of Olympus herself."

"Now I understand the indeterminate label," Percy retorts, although I have said nothing rude. "I can already imagine you two nerding out and butting heads over support beams and post-modern aesthetics."

"You don't like me already?" I ask, feeling a bit ashamed.

"No, what gave you that impression?" Percy responds. His features are suddenly blindsided with surprise, and his eyes darken like churning sea waters.

"You sounded so rude!" I lash out. I hadn't been in much of a good mood lately, but it is unfair of me to lash out at this guy I just met. Percy's features suddenly return to that neutral, brooding look.

"I see you're not feeling too hot lately," Percy remarks. "A trip to the forges should warm you up."

"Tsk, tsk," I bite out. "Save it for the battlefield."

With that, I walk out of the office and head back to the Hermes cabin.

Later that day, I go out to the sparring arena. I spent most of the day forging a blunt sparring katana and some classic samurai armor. As great as Greek weaponry is, I missed using my familiar kendo weapons. Percy was right: going to the forges was a nice way to improve my mood. His sarcasm is biting, but I think I can tolerate it.

Percy was already by the arena waiting for me. He's dressed in Greek battle attire and holding a bronze Greek practice blade.

"Hey, kid," he calls out. "Ready when you are. What's up with that sword? That's not a European-looking weapon, much less a Greek or Roman one."

"It's a katana," I answer. "I spent most of my life learning kendo. This Greek fighting style is so weird to me, so I intend on doing this my way and at full strength."

"You sound like you could be my brother," Percy chuckles. "As my father has said once to me, 'The sea does not like to be constrained.'"

"Whatever, dude," I snort back. "Ready to spar or what?"

We each take our respective sides of the area. With Whitney acting as moderator and Amelia, an Apollo camper, acting as emergency medic, we begin the countdown.

"THREE! TWO! ONE!" Whitney calls out. 

I take charge forward towards Percy. When I am in range, I take my stance. Percy takes first strike. Typical of his Greek-style of combat, he slashes at my legs. I take one step back and lower my sword to parry his blow. Percy withdraws and tries a jab. Again, which a mere flick of my wrist, I parry his next blow. Percy once again withdraws and try for another strike. I parry one wide blow after another. Finally, I see my opening. 

I shout a loud kiai and slash hard at the opening. Percy immediately realizes my intent and somersaults backward, dodging my blow by the hairs on his arms. Still having the momentum, I charge forward and lift my sword high. Percy's disarray forces him to retreat. Instead of following through, I lower my sword once more and try a straight jab. The blade makes contact with Percy's side and sends him tumbling. However, his agility makes up for any such strikes. He stands up tall and begins his second set of attacks.

This time, Percy switches tactics. He stands strong and steadfast, almost as though he's going to hold his ground. Instead of a slash like I anticipated, he charges forward with a stabbing motion at my approach. Realizing my mistake, I step back and regain my stance. I keep my blade low and slash under his arm. He immediately crashes down on my blade. Combining a trick I learned here at Camp with the katana's curved blade, I close my distance to Percy, holding my blade underneath his hilt. I abruptly slash my blade backward. 

Percy is hit completely by surprise. With another downward hack and a bit of twisty wristwork, I finish my maneuver.   
  
CLANG!

Percy's blade lays about ten feet away from him. He is completely disarmed. He raises both of his arms in surrender, completely surprised by my tactics. I lower my blade and retrieve his for him. Unbeknownst to us, a crowd of spectators had gathered around to watch this showdown.

"What on earth was that fighting style?" Percy asks. "That was completely unlike anything I have ever seen."

Way to state the obvious, bro.

"It was like Roman legion training, being so well-grounded and offensive, yet you are one single person. You're an immovable object!"

"Kendo is all about waiting for the right moment to attack," I explain. "I didn't need to make my own weaknesses. I simply needed your energetic Greek style to open itself to me. Then, a few small shows of force seals the deal."

"I should probably learn your Asian ways with the sword," Percy admits. "But that last move clearly wasn't Japanese. It resembled the trick I learned from Luke Castellan when I first came here almost a decade ago. Gods, I feel old."

"You're right, it isn't Japanese, but it also isn't Greek," I answer. "The katana's subtly curved blade gives the enterprising user an extra degree of motion. It's meant to slash down on the enemy or stab like any European sword. But, unlike the Egyptian khopesh, the blade's curved side was meant for increasing strength and not utility, and so is blunter. It's more like the hilt of a blade, meaning I can improvise as though it is."

"That's very interesting," Percy notes. "You know what, can you do me a solid and forge me one of those? I know of plenty of kendo masters back in San Francisco. I came here thinking I needed to train the guy I saw in my dreams, but you, Arthur, you are truly extraordinary. Someday, you'll be a greater hero than I could ever be."

What has the world come to? The Hero of Olympus himself has congratulated me, but I know his words have to be flattery. Nonetheless, I accept his thanks.

"I am honored to be thought of like this by you, Percy," I reply. "I'll have the katana ready for dinner. Would you like Imperial Gold or Celestial Bronze?"

"Bronze, please," he replies. He studies me for a moment.

"You know, kid, I'll tell you this," Percy says. "When I first came here in the summer of 2005, I was having an awful time. I thought I had seen my mother die right before my eyes. I was overwhelmed by everything I had assumed to be a myth. That was also the day I met my girlfriend, and at first, we just couldn't get along. It took a life-threatening quest together across the whole country before she could trust me. I was once just like you, insecure and untrusting. Even after two huge wars, I still can't believe everything I saw was real. The Fates are cruel ladies, but if they shall ordain you as a hero, you will become one regardless of what you think."

"I just don't understand," I reply. "I lived almost twelve years of my life being no one particularly special. Sure, I was unlike most other kids and I was exceeding skilled at many things, but I didn't know it was my heritage that made me that way. I believe firmly in self-determination, and now I can't help but feel my life is now a lie, never once up to me."

"Don't discount your talents, kid. There's a reason Christians call them God-given: you don't know why you can do every you did, but never try to throw them away. Use them to fulfill your purpose. I have some catching up to do. I'll see you at dinner."

Percy walks off towards the Big House. I spend the rest of the day pondering what he had said to me. These thoughts remain as I begin forging his request.


	12. I Meet The Old Heroes

That night, I arrive at the Dining Pavilion with a nice surprise. Percy's katana is among the best pieces of metalwork I have ever done. The hilt bears the symbol of Poseidon, the trident, on one side and SQPR, the abbreviation for the Camp Jupiter title of Praetor, on the other. The blade itself has channels cut in for him to test out using his water powers on. The katana can shrink down to a fountain pen when not in use. He absolutely adores this blade. I have heard the legend of his current sword, Riptide, whose alternate form inspired the discreet form of the katana.

Deciding I want to sit with the Apollo campers tonight, I line up in their line with Will Solace leading. Today, another guy is standing close to him. This guy has dark olive skin, Italian from the look of it, black hair, and the darkest pair of eyes I have ever seen. Under his eyes are slash marks, like he had recently emerged from combat. His eyes glance wearily around him before settling into what I can only say is a stare to a million miles yonder. He's wearing an outfit straight out of Hot Topic.

I help myself to baby-back ribs, a nice beef brisket sandwich, a handful of strawberries, and, rather pleasantly, beef stir-fry. I offer my food to each of the godly ancestor I know of and to Lord Zeus himself.

When I finally sit down at the table, everyone looks expectantly at me.

"Holy crap, Arthur, that was insane!" Ophelia perks up. "I couldn't believe the speed of your sword fighting with Percy. The only other people who could put up such a display against him are his girlfriend and Jason Grace."

"Don't remind me of him," the punk boy speaks up. "I don't know what has happened to his soul all these years, but it still pains me to no end."

Trying to remember all the big names at Camp Half-Blood, my mind finally settles on the right one.

"Are you the great Nico di Angelo, son of Hades?" I ask him.

"And who do we have here?" he asks back. "By your eyes, I can swear you're my brother, but I have already heard from Apollo and Percy who you are, Arthur." He turns to the rest of the table. "I intend to have a nice leave from the front line, so don't mention Jason again, people."

"I heard from Lord Zeus himself I am to be deployed to the front in four weeks' time," I state. "May I ask what exactly is going on in your father's realm?"

Nico suddenly looks very pale. His arms begin to shake.

"It's okay, babe, everything will be alright," Will coos to him. So they are dating. What other reason would a child of Hades sit here besides being lonely?

"Don't call me babe, Sunshine," Nico growls back, gaining some composure. "I'll have you respect your elder."

"You're only 89-going-on-18, what's so old about you?" Will smirks back. Whatever that means, I don't want to know.

"Don't push it, Solace," Nico answers back. "Arthur, today's really not my day. We can speak of this matter some other day."

We exchange plenty of banter over the events of today. I drain about eight or nine cups worth of clear orange Fanta from my endless goblet. I can really get used to changing the dye off my drink whenever I want. After dinner, I do my usual event on Tuesday nights, a trial of strength. I was never a power-lifting champ, but I'm no slouch either. Apparently, being a legacy of Kratos is quite a blessing.

"Attention campers!" Chiron blares out. "Instead of our usual campfire sing-along, we have a special event tonight. Make your way to the Firework Beach instead."

All the campers gather there in no time. At the beach, a small fire reveals the silhouette of eight figures. As soon as Keith Wesley, a Hephaestus camper, lights the second set of fires, their faces become visible.

I recognize Percy and Nico from before. Percy is standing in the left-middle from my view of the eight. To his right is a pretty blonde woman. Her gray eyes are piercing and intense, as though she was always making a plan. Her tan skin contrasts with the grey Berkeley shirt she is wearing. She appears to be holding hands with Percy. I realize this must be Annabeth Chase, the daughter of Athena.

Two people wearing purple Roman togas also stand at the beach. One is a tall, muscly Asian guy. His figure makes him look like a giant panda. Next to him is a small Creole girl. She has to be a New Orleanian, for I have only ever seen people that color in New Orleans. Nico stands between them and Percy.

Next to Annabeth stands a lanky Hispanic guy. The surprising amount of tone on his small body suggests he had once been quite scrawny. His face is cheerful and elfish, his hair a mess of curly wires. He wears a work uniform like that of a car mechanic. If I remember correctly, this is Leo Valdez, the shipwright of the Argo II. 

Next to Leo stands two much younger ladies in silver jackets. While everyone else appears to be in their late teens or early twenties, these two look no older than sixteen. The one on the left has piercing blue eyes. Her face is sullen, and her short hair completes quite a scary demeanor. The other girl is also Hispanic, presumably Caribbean. Her long dark hair and determined face make her look like a stern platoon commander. The eight of them stand around what appears to surround what appears to be a firework display.

"Tonight, friends, we remember two important events in the histories of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter," Percy begins. "The first is the day the Argo II first took sail. Leo Valdez, please step forward and tell your tale."

Leo talks of the day the three of them met. He then talks of the encounter with the God of the North Wind and the many trials and tribulations it took before they finally rescue Hera. The leader, Jason Grace, sounded like an honorable man. It's a pity he was taken from us so soon. The third member of the quest, Piper McLean, now lives abroad and can't make it back for this night. Then, he talks about the shipbuilding process of the Argo II, which must have been beyond daunting.

"In an ironic twist of fate, today also marks three years since the death of the leader of that quest," Percy continues. "Tonight, we ask his sister to light our firework display in his honor."

The blue-eyed girl in the silver jacket steps forward. She lights a long silver arrow on fire and nocks it in her bow. With intense precision, she hits the smallest edge of the fuse. The fuse burns with a jolt and lights the entire display. An explosion of colors erupts in the sky. When the initial burst settled down, the shape of a face emerges. A bespectacled guy with blue eyes seems to wave at us from above. Each person standing at the front of the ceremony waves respectfully to the silhouette. This must be a representation of Jason.

Afterward, the campers engage in some solemn banter about the war. Hearing teens only a few years older than me talking like hardened war veterans sent a chill up my spine. As I scan the crowd, I see the eight people who hosted the ceremony. Nico and Percy beckon me to come join them.

"Guys, meet Arthur," Percy introduces. "Arthur, meet the commanders of the Gigante War. Before you are five of the seven members of the prophecy, the Lieutenant of Artemis, the Ambassador of Hades, and one of the then-commander of Camp Jupiter."

I learn each of their names one by one: Reyna, Thalia, Frank, Hazel, Leo, Percy, Nico, and Annabeth. These are all great Greek demigods of the twenty-first century. I stand among a circle of Great Powers.

"I am flattered at your appreciation of my work," Annabeth says to me. "If only old Seaweed Brain had that much respect for me."

"Shut it, Wise Girl. Your fatal flaw still hits hard to this day."

"I honestly didn't expect the Architect of Olympus to look like you," I say awkwardly. "You can pass for an airheaded Valley Girl if not for your godly parentage."

"Aren't you a quick-witted one?" Annabeth muses. "Tell me what you said to Percy about Hera's temple."

"Well, that one support beam seems super out of place," I begin. "Clearly the moment of inertia of the beam in that configuration can't possibly support that much torque from the overhang, at least not for long. Doing some quick mental calculations and rough numerical integration, I'd say you're putting at least twice as much force on it as it can comfortably hold."

"Whichever of the seven languages you speak that was, that certainly wasn't English," Frank jokes. "Parles-tu français?"

Annabeth's face flushes red. "I think I know which one you're talking about. I intentionally did that to make Hera's temple a ticking time bomb. Now that we're on much better terms, I should probably quietly fix that spot. Thank you for pointing it out and reminding me. I was such an impulsive sixteen-year-old."

"Holy Hera, Annabeth, I didn't think you had it in you," Percy smirks. "Maybe some of that kelp is sprouting in your head as well."

The couple continues to exchange playful banter throughout the night. We all spend a good while bantering about our demigod lives and what we do outside of it. As usual, just as a good day is coming, something had to take a piece of the action as well. In the distant woods, I hear the ugliest growl possible from a monster. The shadow of a cat ready to pounce extended into view. Here we go again.


	13. The Old Heroes Fight New Monsters

The shadow's owner prances forward in a sudden swipe. It barrels into Nico and Thalia from behind, crushing them both under its enormous paws. 

"My gods, what is that?" Percy exclaims. He instinctively charges at the monster, uncapping his blade Riptide. A slash, whack, and hack later, and he stands aside, discouraged at his inability to hurt it, though he did knock it away from Nico and Thalia.

"It's like the Nemean Lion!" Percy shouts, exasperated. "There's no way this is a Greek monster. I felt the blade cut its skin, for Zeus's sake!"

"It looks like an eagle," Thalia notes, recovering her wit. She raises her hand and conjures up tendrils of what appears to be lightning. "Forgive me, Father, for what I'm about to do to this creature of your domain." 

This is the famed daughter of Zeus? She crashes her hand down and a massive bolt crashes down on the monster. Despite everyone in a ten-feet radius getting knocked back, the thing simply stands there unharmed. 

I land in a wild raspberry bush. Using this small moment of cover, I conjure up my compound bow. I summon three arrows of Celestial Bronze, Imperial Gold, and Mortal Silver and load them in. The triple volley lands hard in the neck of the creature. It staggers back for a moment, and with a swipe of its massive wing, dislodge the projectiles with a grotesque squish. 

"How did you do that?" Annabeth shouts. "You know that's a hieracosphinx, right? You can't kill Egyptian monsters with Greek magic, except for this new guy, apparently. Wait, Arthur, take this!"

Annabeth throws me her dagger at me, which is absolutely stupid for a child of Athena. Suddenly, it shifts into what appears to be a white tusk, like a canine from a hippo. I catch what should have been a dagger in my left hand.

To say my mind was fried would be an understatement. A sea of pictures swarm my vision, and time actually slows down. When these effects fade away, I finally collect enough brain cells to shout the only thing that makes sense

"A'max!"

The hippo tusk glows a bright orange. I feel an enormous amount of energy surge into my arm. A massive beam of light suddenly casts down upon the creature from my extended hand. The hieracosphinx begins to violently thrash. Its thrashing turns to convulsions, and in particular, its wings are twitching, trying to take flight. But, the effects of the spell seems to have bounded it.   
I approach the monster to try and finish the job. Then, it erupts in a burst of Greek fire, green and hot like August in Louisiana. The creature quickly incinerates to dust and fades away in a mix of black and gold.

The others in the group recover their shock from being attacked by a monster most of them have never seen. Frank and Hazel are still dazed from flying headfirst into birch trees. Nico stumbles a bit but is otherwise unharmed. Reyna and Leo are both unconscious. Then, the world begins to spin around me, and I collapse upon my knees.

When I wake up, I am in the same infirmary bed I slept in back in February. The old campers except for Reyna and Leo surround my bed, all casting a worried look on me. In place of those two are two people holding hippo tusks and staff. My eyes widen when I recognize one of the two, a blonde girl with pink highlights.

"Sadie, is that you?" I ask aloud.

"It is me, you ninny," she answers. "How did you know Uncle Amos's signature spell? And with no training from us, at that."

"You already know Sadie?" Percy, Annabeth, and the other magician guy, a dark man with curly hair and wearing a Columbia University shirt, all say at once.

"I met her at the hotel on my way here to Camp Half-Blood," I recall. "We had a run-in with a Serpopard that night. Who knew that a kitten can be so dangerous?"

We all share an uneasy laugh.

I begin to recount the events of last night. The other campers listen with intrigue. In particular, they were mystified by how I could wound the Egyptian monster with Greek and Roman weapons. 

"It's like that time the four of us fought Setne," Sadie remarks. "I thought we could keep our little task force secret. Now, here comes this son of one of us who can mix the powers all on his own and without the Book of Thoth!"

"By your account, did you say your spell summoned Greek fire?" the dark-hair guy asks. "A standard A'max from Uncle Amos can only summon normal flames. It must be one of those weird effects of mixing Greek and Egyptian magic."

"But I can only achieve such an effect when I cast an Egyptian spell with a Greek word," Sadie points out. "Annabeth needed my secret name to help banish Setne to that snow globe."

For a bunch of butt-kicking heroes, they really have some unusual and childish ways to defeat the enemy.

"I hate it when I don't understand," Annabeth mutters out. "You all are telling me this one boy can do everything Setne could, but without ever seeing that ancient book of spells. And, he manages to excel at the tasks of every kind of demigod there is, even ones that don't exist like Hera and Artemis. This can be true unless......"

"Oh my gods, Annabeth, the Prophecy!" Percy suddenly blurts out. "I had another nightmare the other night. I couldn't hear all the words, but I did hear something about a legacy."

"That's strange," I blurt out. "I did hear the Oracle of Delphi state the prophecy on Olympus, but it didn't mention the word legacy at all."

"I don't even want to think about what that can mean," Annabeth says. 

"Wise Girl doesn't want to think?" Percy muses. "That's clearly a first. You'll have kelp growing out your head in no time. That's what you get for all those years of bashing me."

"Hey, at least I got rid of that stuff so you can actually pass your classes," Annabeth retorts.

Oh, my gods, these two are hopeless. 

"Nine years together and somehow you two get cuter," Sadie teases. "The same can't be said for Carter and Zia."

"Watch it, sis," Carter, the previously nameless black guy, spits out. "You're the crazy one dating the God of Death." Sadie blushes a deep shade of red before slapping Carter on the back.

So these two are siblings. How that happened is way beyond me, but seeing that my family tree is a rope, I, again, don't question it.

"We have more pressing matters than your love lives," I interject. "In four weeks' time, I'm supposed to be deployed down to the Underworld. Zeus himself gave me this quest."

"That reminds me," Nico suddenly speaks up. "The Underworld is totally swamped with monsters like that. That chasm is brimming with monsters Dad hasn't seen since Roman times. Fortunately, some of the monsters of Tartarus aren't really bright ones and attack these guys with as much vigor as any demigod, but Dad's forces are being sapped daily. There are simply too many. Some crazy hybrid monsters are really turning the tide. My last report as field officer saw a hybrid Greek and Egyptian sphinx trucking through hordes of our undead. Are's tributes are getting hacked down in droves."

"Magicians of the Thirty-Second Nome are reporting a great disturbance near their headquarters in Long Beach," Carter pipes up. "There are similar reports of Greek and Roman monsters turning up near Los Angeles House. There are also a worrying number of unidentified monsters no one can identify in the archives."

"Carter, as Praetor of Camp Jupiter, I can guarantee your safety from the Roman monsters," Hazel says. "I will send a detachment of the Twelfth Legion to Long Beach."

"It's time for Arthur to consult the Oracle," Annabeth declares. "I miss seeing old Rachel."

Percy and Annabeth share an uneasy laugh. The rest of the people present have no idea why.


	14. I Run Into an Old Friend

The group of us except for Reyna and Leo go off into the woods to a cave. From the outside, it looks like any other cave. However, as a legacy of Dolos, I can see it for what it really is: a modern bedroom complex with plush pillows and three beds. 

We all file into the cave without so much a knock on its imaginary door. The inside is definitely much larger than the outside let on, I as saw before. The walls are painted in a multitude of drawings. One that stuck out, in particular, is a row of cruise ships. In that scene, an evil-looking Navy officer raises a spear over a bespectacled blond guy with a gold Roman gladius. Beside him is a brown-haired boy with a combat ukelele and bow and arrows. The blond guy is in a vulnerable position relative to the spear. When I others look at what I'm looking at, they all shudder. Percy's expression darkens at that sight. Deciding to not push the issue, I simply continue into what passes for a living room.

In the large recliner sits a familiar face. Frizzy red hair, emerald green eyes, tall and freckled. Rachelle is her name, I believe?

"So the crew of the Argo II returns," Rachelle begins. "I expected this day to come."

"Of course you have, Rachel," Annabeth bites back. The two girls share an understanding look between them.

Oh wait, her name is Rachel. Nevermind.

"You have returned, Arthur," Rachel says to me. "That last prophecy had me in a tizzy. I swear, every single time someone asks me that exact question, they claim I give a different prophecy every time."

"Once again, I hate it!" Annabeth suddenly bursts out. "Is it just me, or are these all different prophecies? Percy claims to hear about a legacy of the gods. Arthur got something else entirely, and Nico heard something about the clash of the undead."

"In any case, we can probably get a standard prophecy, right?" Frank questions.

"Let's see," Rachel replies. "Arthur, I'm assuming it pertains to you. Let me hear it."

"What shall I do to help Lord Hades?" I ask.

Once again, Rachel becomes a creepy breathing mannequin. The others in the room are desensitized to this spectacle, for they look on like it's business as usual. I struggle to contain my disgust at the sight. Once, again, her sweet, sultry voice switches to a deep, ancient chant. This time, her words aren't so cryptic.

"You shall go west on roads rediscovered.  
Alone you shall travel in the groves of the nether.  
One life or many, the choice will decide.  
A lost hero's fate remains undefined."

This prophecy is infinitely better than the detonator that was the one on Olympus. Still, I feel uneasy at the meaning of these words.

"That may be the most unambiguous prophecy ever issued," the recovered Rachel speaks out. "However, I think our usual procedures are null."

"Normally, you can have two companions on your quest," Percy explains. "But, it's pretty obvious this is a solo quest. Unfortunately for you, you're on your own."

"But the prophecy says only in the 'Groves of the Nether,'" I plea. "Surely it doesn't mean I'm all on my own, right?"

"Even if others come with you, as that monster has proven two nights ago, we can't help you," Frank says. "The monster simply can't be killed with a show of force from just one pantheon or another. Also, since Zeus himself ordained this quest, this means you are to be solo, like Hercules."

I groan at the prospect. Perhaps I have never told anyone about this, but despite having so many friends in my life, I have always felt somewhat alone. There has never been another person, save for one, with as many talents as me. It's a lonely world to be in when everyone else only talks about one or two things. The prospect of being alone again makes me quite agitated.

"Are you okay, Arthur?" Hazel perks up. "It's like your face went totally blank for a moment."

"I'm fine," I reply as neutrally as I can.

"If Grover or Coach Hedge were here, they can read you quite well," Percy says. "There's clearly something you're not telling us."

Thinking of nothing better to distract them with, I push my luck.

"What is that scene Rachel painted onto the wall over there?" I ask.

"That would be the death of Jason Grace," Frank says. "He was on the quest to help Apollo secure the Oracles from Caligula and the Triumvirate. Supposedly, he heard a prophecy that either he or Piper must die on this quest. Jason chose to sacrifice himself rather than Piper."

"What still bothers me is that Jason's nowhere to be seen in the Underworld," Nico suddenly speaks up. "I assume it has to do with these cross-pantheon interactions. He could have found himself wandering the Duat or wherever you Egyptians go when you die."

"In any case, I think we've overstayed our welcome," Carter states. "Sadie and I have some important business to attend to back at in Brooklyn. Arthur, I advise you to come and train with us one day. Being one of our distant relatives, you should be more than able to master the Path of a god."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I reply. "I have an afterlife to save."

The next few weeks after Carter and Sadie depart are a blur in my mind. More and more campers begin to show up for the summer session. I once again get to see Julian from New Orleans, but a few extra surprises show up. One person, in particular, I am very surprised to see.

At the Dining Pavilion, I make my usual decision about where to sit for the night. That's when she walks up to me, someone I haven't seen in years from back in San Antonio. Her dirty blonde hair, iridescent hazel eyes, and tan Persian skin are all that remains from when we were both in second grade. She is now taller than I am. Despite my being several months older than her, she now looks almost fully grown despite being a few hairs over twelve. I feel myself blush a little bit, seeing how much, dare I say, prettier she has become. Her eyes light up as she recognizes me.

"Arthur, is that you?" she asks. "Oh my gods, it's been five years! How come you're here at Camp Half-Blood? I know you have two mortal parents."

"One question at a time, Penelope," I answer. 

It is, in fact, my old childhood friend. I fondly recall the giant dirt fort we dug in my backyard all those years ago. My parents were thoroughly impressed with our craftsmanship. My father had basically adopted her, for she never knew her father. Only now do I know why that was the case.

"I'm here due to a weird turn of events," I begin. I recall and tell her the events since February. She has a hard time processing all the words coming out of my face. 

"So that's why your father was often on business trips," Penelope says. "I should have known you're divine too." 

Her face becomes a bit sullen. 

"I guess you're also wondering where I've been. As you remember, my mother and I moved to Atlanta when we were in second grade. Although I got along quite well with the people there, I never quite liked the city. Around when I was ten, that's when the monsters began to attack. Eventually, my mother was forced to tell me the truth. For the last two years, I have been coming to Camp every summer."

"Who's your godly parent?" I ask. 

"Hephaestus," she replies. "After meeting him for the first time, I knew why I was always the 'ugly duckling' at school. Of course, when I began to grow out of it, I didn't like the new attention I got either. The boys at school are so annoying. Even though my friends are great, I, I......."

Penelope begins to blush a little bit. She tries to cover it up with a wipe of her brow, but I pretend not to see nonetheless. 

"I haven't met another friend like you, Arthur," she finally says. "I still have that picture of us adding that tower to the old fort."

"Well, can we recall some good times with over a few plates of food," I tease. "Come on, let's line up with the rest of the cabin. Before you ask, Chiron has labeled me 'indeterminate.' I can sit at any table I please."

With that, we prepare our meals and talk with the other Hephaestus campers for the rest of the time. We got some suspicious glances from the other campers, and I swear I heard someone mention Percy and Annabeth, but I don't care. I'm just glad to see my old friend again.


End file.
